Lydia was already asleep in Elizabeth’s room, sprawled diagonally across the bed as though she had conquered it. Her breathing was deep and untroubled, the kind of peace Elizabeth envied.
Jane, however, had not gone to bed.
She sat with Elizabeth in the sitting room, a blanket folded over her knees, a glass of wine cradled between her hands. The lamp on the side table cast a soft circle of light, leaving the rest of the room in shadow.
Elizabeth kept her own glass close, more for something to do with her fingers than for thirst.
Jane watched her for a long moment.
“You’re still awake,” she said gently.
Elizabeth gave a short laugh. “So are you.”
Jane’s smile was faint. “I’m not the one pretending I’m fine.”
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked to the window. The dark glass reflected her back at herself, all sharp angles and stubbornness.
“I am fine.”
Jane hummed, unconvinced. She took a small sip of wine, then set her glass down.
“Lizzy,” she said softly, “tell me again what the real issue is.”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass.
“The real issue,” she repeated, as though tasting the words, “is that there is no issue here—aside from the fact that somepeople think they can offer relationships in a condescending manner and expect me to accept it as some kind of favour, simply so that I don’t reveal their true personality for the horrible person they are.”
Jane didn’t flinch. “That is not what I mean.”
Elizabeth looked back at her.
Jane’s voice remained calm. “You’re angry. I understand that. But anger isn’t the only thing I saw tonight.”
Elizabeth’s stomach tightened. “Jane…”
“Do you like him?”
The question landed too neatly, too directly.
Elizabeth’s laugh came out strained. “No.”
Jane’s eyes didn’t move.
“No?” she repeated, very gently.
Elizabeth set her glass down with more force than necessary. “Of course not. He’s arrogant. Insufferable. He—”
“He asked you out,” Jane interrupted, still mild. “And you looked as though someone had knocked the air out of you.”
“That was shock,” Elizabeth insisted. “Nothing else.”
Jane tilted her head. “And Mr. F?”
Elizabeth stilled.
The room seemed suddenly smaller.
Mr. F.
